Now think for one moment of the solemn obligation this lays upon us in regard to that gallant, struggling, yet temporarily dismembered little nation. We must look after the refugees. There are those who say, "The Government have brought the Belgians over here, let the Government make their support a State matter."
One almost blushes to have to deal with such a sentiment. Could 1s. in the £ income-tax take the place, morally, spiritually, or ethically, of the rich profusion of voluntary aid now being poured forth? The loss to the nation, of that which is purest and noblest in its life, would be simply unspeakable. It is suffering that provides opportunity for the exercise of the highest duty known to man, "Bear ye one another's burdens and so fulfil the law of Christ." Try to picture to yourself, quietly yet resolutely, what it would mean to you to-morrow morning, to find suddenly that you had to leave your house, not in a motor-car for a railway train; no! but to turn out at once, without time to put together any belongings; to tramp, perhaps in pouring rain, along miles of road, foodless, cold, exhausted; seeing those around you dropping out to faint or die by the wayside; not knowing where or how the journey should end. This is what has happened to tens of thousands of Belgians; many, cultured and refined, coming forth penniless from homes of comfort and plenty!
In ministering to the needs of the Belgians you find a glorious privilege, a priceless opportunity. Again, to quote G.K. Chesterton:
"In a sense Belgium could still have saved her face; but she preferred to save Europe. This, it seems to me, gives her a claim on something beyond pity or even gratitude—a claim on our intellectual honour beyond anything that even suffering could extort."
Our Lent is nearly over. With all its opportunities, its calls, its privileges, it is now behind us. Some perhaps began it with high resolves and brave hopes, and are disappointed at the apparently small results. None, we trust, are wholly satisfied with themselves, for that would point to a condition far worse than despair. There is such a thing as divine discontent, and every true Christian should know something of it. For all the conscious failures ask pardon, but do not give up striving.
Standing under the Cross of Christ, as we do to-day, we have a standard for the measuring of ourselves which makes our little efforts at discipline look very poor indeed. Yet He remembers our frame, He knows whereof we are made; He can and will accept the feeblest struggles of our will towards His. Perhaps some progress in the life of grace may have been made, then thank Him and take courage.
Let us just cast our minds back. The discipline of the will means, laying ourselves open to listen to the voice of the living God. The discipline of the body means, never letting it get the upper hand of the real self. The discipline of the soul means the taking a very serious view of the responsibility of life. The discipline of the spirit means, a close approach to God by every channel of worship. The discipline of obedience means, that we put self in the background, so that we may exalt the person of Christ. The discipline of sorrow means, that Christ is still present in His suffering ones, and there is our opportunity. The discipline of bereavement means, the trial of our faith that it may enter into the realities of the spiritual kingdom.
Then comes the crown and climax, the discipline of self-sacrifice. Place steadily before you the thought of Christ crucified, see there the culmination of all possibility of the offering up of self for others. No element of completeness was wanting. The sacrifice was voluntary, was made for enemies, brought no return to self.
Strong in His strength go forth ready to spend and be spent, if only by the discipline of self-sacrifice you can lighten the load borne by any one of your fellow-creatures.
What hast Thou done for me, O